You Can Run with Me (If You Wanted To)
by runicmagitek
Summary: If it made Wanda happy, Vision was willing to do it. Even if it meant telling no one else. Even if it meant placing a target on his back. Post-CW Wanda/Vision


_for Lunarium for the multifandom drabble exchange on AO3_

* * *

What happened?

Mr. Stark asked once and yet it echoed within Vision as if the entire world screamed it. What _did_ happen? Everything and nothing, in a sense. By all accounts, their decisions and actions shouldn't have yielded such results. He should have been supporting his team and keeping the opposing forces at bay.

But what did that make _her_, then?

She captivated him like a formula he simultaneously could always and never solve. The only constant about Wanda Maximoff was that she never was.

So what _happened_? Truly and simply? He looked at her and found not a reason to fight, but someone to protect. And he had done everything but that. Now she resided in a real prison.

Without him there to ensure her safety.

"_I cannot control their fear,_" she told him before leaving. "_Only my own._"

Vision dropped his gaze, her voice lolling in his mind. How could anyone fear her? The public viewed a sliver in her life—an accident, for all intents and purposes—and branded her vile and incorrigible.

And Wanda allowed that seemingly small fact to fester within until it rotted her mind. Even then, Vision looked to her with sheer sublime. What could he do to show her she was more than what her toxic thoughts led her to believe as true? He resigned himself to living out his existence dedicated to showing Wanda how beautiful her chaos was.

Now he feared he'd never see her again, let alone tell her how he felt.

How he felt… did words exist for the foreign sentiments churning through him?

What happened wasn't that he was distracted, despite what he told Mr. Stark. What happened was that he failed to protect Wanda and humans didn't possess enough longevity for Vision to thoroughly explain that.

* * *

He visited her room three times a day. Out of habit, of course, but the weeks crawled by and Vision continued and lingered, hoping one day he would knock and she would answer.

She taught him that—the human etiquette involving doors. Embarrassment gutted him whenever he recalled the first instance he phased through Wanda's wall to inform her that Ms. Romanoff was delaying their scheduled training. Wanda had gasped and flinched, barely clad in a towel with her damp hair clinging to her neck. He stared not to be lewd, but due to processing the scenario and trying to come to his own conclusions as to why she recoiled. The process completed two seconds too late and Vision choked on his words and plummeted his gaze to the floor.

"_The door is closed,_" she told him, her voice surprisingly gentle despite shock rattling her tongue. "_That means I don't want anyone to come in_."

A million apologies rushed to his lips. Vision restarted his sentence ten times and Wanda placed a hand on his shoulder.

"_It's okay. You didn't know._"

Once she fully dressed, she showed him: how to knock, how to wait for an answer, how to open and close the elusive contraption, and how to even lock it. She smiled to him, then, and commented on how he was catching on. Even when it slipped his mind and he entered anywhere but through the door, she didn't scream; she simply reminded him.

"_Vizh, we talked about this._"

He sighed and rested his forehead against her door. The knob turned in his hand as he peeked inside. He hoped to find her there. Maybe she'd scold him for entering without permission. Maybe then he'd ask for one of her gentle reminders.

She never was there, though.

* * *

Vision swore an error overrode his basic functioning when the news was addressed at a particular debriefing. Either that or it was true—the Raft was breached and key prisoners escaped. Tension laced through everyone present. As for Vision, he released a breath he did not know he clung to.

That meant Wanda was free, didn't it?

While his allies discussed security protocols, Vision's gaze and mind drifted elsewhere. Was she okay during her imprisonment? Did her jailers treat her well? Where was she now? Someplace safe, perhaps? Vision tried not to chuckle at that; she would have scolded him for deeming anywhere in this world was safe for someone like her. Maybe he would have reasoned with her that if she allowed him, he could ensure her safety. Whatever that meant. Vision sighed—he liked to believe he was capable of protecting Wanda.

Except her whereabouts were unknown and maybe she _was_ at risk. Now the tension riddled his body until his fingers tapped along his leg. How was he to locate her? Not that he needed to hover over her every move, but if he knew where she was, maybe the tight and hollow sensation in his chest would fade.

Another skip in his synthetic pulse and he froze. What if she _didn't_ want him to know? What if she wished to disappear and be but a ghost in his memory banks?

Vision left the debriefing, unaware if the session ended or if he did so by impulse. He sat in the vast living area meant for members to relax and converse with one another. A chess board sat before him. Wanda humored him with games despite losing. No one touched a single piece since her absence. Knowing that pained him and yet he couldn't comprehend why.

* * *

Somewhere between consciousness and dreaming, he heard her. Vision dismissed the voice as his own sorrow playing tricks with him. But it returned in the morning and the afternoon. It deprived him of words in a delicate conversation, leaving him speechless and breathless.

A simple note resonated in his mind and rended anxiety and elation through him—_Vizh?_

It was her. It _had_ to be. Only Wanda referred to him as such. At first, she barely made eye contact with him, bitter in the aftermath of her twin's demise and being deprived of joining him in death. Vision frowned back then; he never meant to further Wanda's anguish by saving her. It never deterred him, however, from approaching her with a gentleness she deserved. In time, her cold eyes warmed to him and she smile when he entered the room. Then she called him that. Similar to Mr. Stark's eccentric obsession to label his allies with a plethora of oddities.

Vision realized far too late that she reserved such a gift for only him.

When he deemed himself alone, Vision sat down, inhaled, and closed his eyes. _Wanda?_

She had a knack for telepathy. He always admired that ability. Envied it, even. He learned early in their Avengers career that if he manipulated his thoughts to amplify above the surface thoughts of others, she could hear him without poking his mind. Wanda had lectured him about not relying on that as a form of communication.

But if she was trying to grasp him now and if he projected his thoughts like a satellite, then did that mean—

A relieved, yet exasperated laugh fluttered into his head. He opened his eyes and held his breath.

_Hey,_ she quietly trickled into him, as if she sat next to him. _There you are._

* * *

Vision spent an entire night staring at the stars. He teetered between sound reasoning and a sensation he had no proper word for. Logic dictated that he was to approach Mr. Stark and unveil the whereabouts of one of the Raft's recent runaways. And yet every fiber in his being screamed to do otherwise.

He wished to abandon his duties and allies to track down Wanda. She told him where she was since whispering in between his thoughts. Her voice teased him in those sleepless nights—mere ghosts of memories that responded to his questions with silence. And as he stirred, robbed of peace and slumber by his own downward spiral, Vision concluded one absolute in his conundrum.

He needed to see her again. From the sounds of it, she did too. Why else would she tell him her location?

In those starlit nights, Vision phased through the Avengers Compound and drifted away. Once beyond electrical and human surveillance, he zipped into the skies until the urban nightlife blurred away the stars.

It wasn't where he wanted to find her. Vision hoped to come across a quaint village, somewhere quiet. He pictured her curled up by a window, sipping tea and waiting for him to show up. Instead, he stumbled upon a decrepit corner of New York City, better suited for unsavory folk wishing to dwell in the shadows. But she lingered in there not by choice, but necessity.

And when she stepped out of the darkness, her tired eyes locked with his, then her arms around his form. He clung back, burying his face in her hair.

"So you came," she whispered into his chest.

Vision smoothed a hand over her head and cradled her close. "My only regret is that I couldn't stay with you the entire time."

* * *

She nearly dragged him inside and into the minuscule space claiming to be an apartment. Frantic breaths left Wanda as she slammed and locked the door.

"Someone could have seen you," she murmured. "Could've seen _us_."

Vision glanced over himself. He hadn't shifted his attire from the casual look he defaulted to when lounging in the Avengers Compound; so long as it wasn't his combat regalia, who would notice?

"We'll be alright for now," he reassured her. "And if something does happen, then I'll—"

"You'll what?"

A bitter quality soaked her tongue. Was it meant for him or something else? Vision tilted his head; she curled up on a futon, eyes elsewhere, arms enveloping herself. Anxious fingers tapped along her jaw.

"If something _does_ happen," Wanda said, "and if either of us do anything, it will be more unwanted attention." When Vision yielded to silence, she expanded. "Besides, you can't be here all the time to save me."

Something skipped in his chest. He ignored it to join Wanda. She didn't swat him away as he sat beside her, yet refused to eye him since entering her apartment.

"These… circumstances," Vision said slowly, "are not ideal, but if I could ease your heart and mind, then I would like your permission to do so."

Wanda coughed up half-hearted laughter. "_My_ permission? For what? _Why_?"

There was that sensation yet again—this time it sank to his stomach, lost to some void he didn't know existed. "Because had I known my presence wouldn't upset you, I would have combed the universe for you once word from the Raft reached us."

Green eyes met with his. Tears welled in them. And when he extended a hand to flick them away, Wanda clung to his wrist and tugged him into a tight embrace.

* * *

He visited as often as possible. Not enough by his standards. Vision slipped out at midnight and flew as fast as his abilities allowed him. Glimmering stars gave way to flickering streetlights until he found her tucked away in the city.

Doubt choked Vision each time they reunited. A torrent of emotions riddled her features, each one a mystery to him. He longed to ask what troubled her—if anything—though knew better than to pry. She answered him with silence those few moments he questioned her, more curious than scrutinize. When he assisted her in this charade, as if the civil war within the Avengers never unfolded, Vision wondered if this is what humans meant when they claimed ignorance was bliss.

At least he had the opportunity to spend time with Wanda, to know she was alright. Well, she was breathing, anyways. Wanda's version of okay differed from most, especially from himself. Even though he stopped asking and she refused to mention her well-being, he discovered answers elsewhere. It was in the gaps between words, the forgotten teacups and cheap microwaveable meals, the embers in her eyes struggling to smolder amidst a hurricane.

It was knowing the last time he witnessed the gorgeous display of her powers was in Germany.

Vision tried not to wince in those recollections.

"Vizh?" she spoke softly and slipped closer. "What's wrong?"

A million instances were considered wrong. The conditions she lived in, the so-called justice his allies claimed to uphold, the knowledge that none of this would fix itself if humanity continued its self-imposed downward spiral. Even the ideas which blipped to mind, all revolving around Wanda's well-being, went against his initial beliefs.

But he wore a small smile and placed his gentle hand over hers. All his worries faded. For now, anyways.

* * *

"Hey, Vizh?"

Her voice melded with the soft rain. Neon lights rippled like fractured light in the cascading water. Vision turned from the fascinating display to focus on Wanda.

She fidgeted in place. Her coy gaze barely met his.

He blinked. "Yes?"

"Could you… do me a favor?"

Whatever concerns he had about flying back to the Avengers Compound in the rain vanished. He stood taller and closed the distance between them. "Anything."

She visibly swallowed and inhaled. "Could you stay the night with me?"

Vision's hesitation came not from the request itself, but from skimming his own memory—had he ever stayed the night? Had Wanda even _asked_? No, nothing of the sort surfaced; his visits were brief, bimonthly at best, and simultaneously secured her anonymity and lifted her loneliness. And his, truth be told.

"It's just," Wanda rushed out when he paused too long, "I've been having nightmares and I wake up sometimes and don't know where I am and when I realize I'm alone, all I want to do is reach out to you, but you're never there and I—"

Tender hands settled onto her shoulders. Inches lingered between them.

"I'll stay as long as you'll have me," Vision whispered.

Wanda loosely locked their hands and led him to her bedroom, a section of the apartment he never visited. A mattress slumped on the floor and Wanda buried herself within the mound of pillows and blankets. Vision followed, gingerly at first, then hyper-conscious of everything and more: the scent of the room, the warmth in the sheets, the sparse decorations perched on the windowsills.

The way she nestled into him like a missing puzzle piece.

Her breaths deepened as his nerves jolted. Vision never wished to sleep again if it meant witnessing her in that peaceful trance.

* * *

"Thanks again for staying."

No screams, no tears staining the night. Vision failed his task of staying awake until sunrise, but she nudged him until he peered through heavy lids to find her smiling. They lingered in bed, eyes locked. When did she slip in closer? Noses bumped and he swore her breath teased his lips.

Vision nodded. "It was my pleasure."

Even after she fixed herself breakfast, even as she made tea and watched sunlight trickle in, she reminded him of her gratitude.

"Thanks, Vizh."

Was she aware of her repetition? Like always, Vision nodded, fearing a simple question would shatter the illusion they shared together.

His departure was the same as always; he thanked Wanda for her hospitality, wished her well, and promised to return. Except Vision never finished the second part of his routine.

Wanda approached him, hands ghosting up his chest to cup his face. Her thumb traced his lower lip. Every inch of him screamed in a way he never fathomed to be possible. And when she stepped into him and their bodies met, he instinctively dipped his head down and closed his eyes. Wanda met him halfway.

He never experienced anything like it. He was on fire, he was frozen, he was submerged in an ocean, yet soaring through space. The only constant in that chaotic anomaly was Wanda. Always Wanda. Her and her touch and her scent and those precious sounds she made against his lips.

"Vizh?" she whispered.

He opened his eyes and witnessed a wildfire consuming her gaze.

Her hips rolled into him. He felt her frantic heart through the layers of their clothing. "Please," she continued, "don't go. Not yet." Parted lips brushed his. "Not—"

He smothered her words with a hard kiss. It satiated her question and nothing else.

* * *

It burned into him, seared until he thought of nothing but the way she made him feel both divine and human. He paused within the Avengers Compound and gazed to her room. Had she contemplated dragging him in there and sharing what they had shared? How long had she waited for the opportunity to lose herself in him?

How long had _he_ desired the same and lacked the words and experience to ask for it?

Vision endlessly recalled that precious sliver in time with Wanda. He needed to don a mask to fool his teammates that nothing teased him. None of them knew of the whereabouts of those who escaped the Raft; Vision planned to keep it that way.

And when he was alone, Vision lounged in his room and closed his eyes, trying to remember her hands caressing his skin and her lips trailing down his neck. He longed to memorize the distinct heat swelling between them and how the tension shifted in the air and pheromones tantalized him as much as her breathless coos.

He tried, but it did little to calm the rampant fire rolling through him. How could he possibly replicate that elusive moment with Wanda? No effort could compare—he needed _her_ and only her.

Instead of preparing for future missions, Vision daydreamed of the next time they would reunite. Would she welcome him with a kiss? Would she smile like when she collapsed on top of him, licked her lips, and moaned? His mind and heart belonged to Wanda despite leaving her. All that remained was to ponder the next time and the time after that.

Perhaps there would come a point where they'd never need to anticipate a next time. Maybe they could simply exist together. Somehow. What a lovely dream that was.

* * *

Wanda paced the room, tense fingers gripping her hair as she rattled manic words. Something about how someone recognized her earlier that day. She licked her feeble lips and mentioned how she needed to leave.

Vision stood there in a crisp new suit he fashioned. He lowered his arms, a bouquet of wild flowers in one hand and a gift-wrapped box containing a necklace in the other.

She never noticed; she chanted and paced. Neither soothed her anxiety.

"I can't go back," Wanda said. "Never again. I don't want to be in chains like some animal—"

"Wanda, that won't happen."

"How do you know?!" She clamped a hand over her mouth. "No, it's… I'm so sorry, I… I promised Steve and Nat that I'd stay low. I had to. And I have. I just… I couldn't keep up. I can't fight. Not anymore. I don't—" She crumbled to her knees and Vision discarded the gifts to catch her. "I don't know what I want, but I know I don't want to be here."

He held her and kissed her temple as she sobbed into his shoulder.

"Wherever you go," he said, "I will follow."

"Vizh," she spat out, half-laughing and half-crying, "you've already been painting a target on your back for visiting me."

"I don't care. I want you to be happy."

"I don't know if I ever will be."

Those words were like a dagger through his heart.

"But you?" She wore a brief, yet small smile. "You make me forget I was ever a monster to begin with."

They stayed on the floor until her hysterics quieted. And when he left, he waited for her voice to tease his thoughts again, for she would be somewhere else.

That is, if she ever wanted him to see her again.

* * *

If Vision hadn't known better, he assumed death claimed him and rendered him useless. Wanda's tendencies rubbed off on him as he paced the Avengers Compound in his down time. Imaginary scenarios riddled his thoughts. Where was she going? How was she getting there? Was she truly safe? What if someone captured her before she arrived at her destination?

Most importantly, would she let him know? Not just if she was alright, but anything.

Her voice. Vision yearned for it more than before. More than her kisses, than her loving embrace late at night, than her rare smiles and pure laughter. He needed to know she hadn't forgotten him. Perhaps she wished to never see him again, but so long as he was aware she lived, then he would heed any command of hers.

The days passed like years, each one testing his patience and tenacity. No one questioned his pauses between conversations, his intense stares fixed on the night skies, or his abrupt urge to isolate himself. What if she whispered to him, softer than a feather? What if he missed her pleas due to distractions?

Vision almost laughed at himself. Was that what his proclaimed duties were now?

He thought back to when Mr. Stark glared at him and demanded to know what had happened. A lifetime ago, or so it felt. Vision was at a loss for words then. Now he struggled to contain the endless stream detailing everything that thrummed within. Nothing pertaining to the Avengers, though. Why would it?

What was once a distraction evolved into a purpose. Vision sat down before that elusive chessboard, dusting off each piece. Did humans experience this?

Was this what it meant to be in love?

He never found an answer. Not when a familiar voice echoed through him.

* * *

Cobblestone streets carved through a rustic city. He ambled through dense crowds until the quantity tapered off. The sun sank behind the tenements and basked the area with a golden glow. He blinked the light out of his blue eyes, scanning each building number. His steps slowed as he settled upon his destination.

A nervous breath rattled his chest. What if she had second thoughts? About him, about this new home, about anything? Smoothing a free hand over his attire—a casual suit beneath a fitted blazer and scarf—Vision gulped down cool air, closed his eyes, and opened his mind to her.

_I'm here,_ was all he offered. Unless another telepath resided within Edinburgh, let alone the immediate vicinity, he doubted she could ignore his voice.

Finishing his part, Vision released a breath and leaned against a metal fence. He watched local pedestrians, oblivious to the synthetic lifeform awaiting an enhanced human. A breeze teased his fair skin and tousled blond hair.

He almost missed her pushing through the gates. Then again, she missed him entirely.

Wanda spun around, face contorted. "Vizh?"

Biting back a smirk, he pushed off the fence, readjusted the flowers and gift box in his hands, and gradually approached. "Hey."

She whirled to face him. Green eyes widened. Wanda inched closer.

"Is that… really you?"

Blush warmed his cheeks. "I hope it's not too much. I… I didn't wish to draw attention, as you had—"

Arms whipped around his neck and jerked him down. Those lips he dreamed of crushed against him and smoothed whatever anxieties chewed his nerves. He melted in her and wondered how he possibly existed without her.

"I've missed you," she purred.

Vision smiled against her lips and so did she. "I'm here now. For as long as you'd like."


End file.
